


Tumblr Fucklets

by Aewin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Allergy Kink, Blow Jobs, Body Horror, Catharsis, Come Inflation, Comfort Sex, Daisy Chaining, Dirty Talk, Eggpreg, Emetophilia, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, Helmsman Maintenance, Helmsman Sollux Captor, Multi, Murder, Omorashi, Oviposition, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Premature Ejaculation, Public Sex, Quadrant Confusion, Quadrant Vacillation, Spanking, Temperature Play, failsex, helmsmen - Freeform, sensory issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1983798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aewin/pseuds/Aewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of smaller NSFW things I've written for people on tumblr. Kinks and pairings vary wildly from piece to piece, so this is quite the grab-bag of porny adventures.</p><p>Kudos to titianarchivist for the glorious pun that is 'fucklets' <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Equius/Sollux helmsman maintenance, Sollux/Psiioniic blackrom

**Author's Note:**

> Note that **_I do not_** take requests. I'm overwhelmed with fic ideas as-is. If I'm open to prompts like these (which is rarely, because of brain overload issues), I will make a post about it on my (extremely NSFW) [tumblr page](http://solluxisms.tumblr.com), and even then, I may not fill every prompt I get. If you send me a prompt when I'm not taking them, I'm liable to delete it without acknowledgement, for my own mental health.
> 
> Now that the dire warnings are over, enjoy your porn.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Equisol helmsman maintenance, black Captorcest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small gift for tatterdemalionamberite, who was having a bad day.

“His senses are spread out over the ship, he’s not going to notice unless you do it harder. Like this—”

Your ancestor grips you like he did when he was in here earlier, picking you apart and learning your secrets, and when he strokes you it’s like an error message has gone off in your bulge.  _Here_ , it says.  _This sector needs your attention._  The infuriating part is that there’s nothing you can  _do_  to fix this error; you’re entirely at their mercy in that regard.

“Try it.”

Equius is sweating so much that your hygrometer is actually registering a change in humidity, but he steps forward and presses dry lips to yours—you can’t actually feel it, it’s all camera feedback, but it’s a nice gesture—and thrusts his fingers into you hard enough to raise you in the wires. An agonizing wave of pleasure spreads through your organic core, and it’s joined by erratically shifting input as the jacks shift in your neuroports. The lights flicker and the ship shudders until you manage to properly adjust for the conflicting signals.

The ancient, analogue intercom squeaks to life.

“Zahhak to the helm for repairs. I repeat, Zahhak to the helm for repairs.”

The connection closes with a  _crrkh_ , and your ancestor sniggers dryly.

“Ehehe, you seem to have the hang of it. Have fun.”

He mock-salutes you and struts off, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder before exiting the block. Fucking hell, you hate that guy. Even  _you_  were never that much of a prick.

Equius swallows.

“I, ah. As much as I enjoyed that, I would also enjoy it if the ship did not appear to be breaking down on my watch.”

You flash a message at him.

get your fiinger2 back iin me, or iill be giiviing off that iimpre22iion on purpo2e.

He chuckles, the soft, husky little laugh that nobody else on this ship has seen.

“You Captors never make it easy, do you?”

iit keep2 you on your toe2. ii make no apologiie2.

He shoves his fingers back up your nook by way of reply, and you barely manage to keep the systems together as you’re lifted up again.

“Well, then. We’d better keep you on  _your_  toes as well, hmm?”


	2. Sollux/Karkat, public sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Public sex: a hatefuck in a hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tumblr user love-me-cancerou2ly.

When Sollux wriggles roughly into you, it drives home just how empty you feel without him there. You’re never sure for certain if it’s a hatefuck or a pityfuck until it starts, but today you are sure, because the way he has you spread against the wall and bouncing on his bulges gives you no room for adjustment. He’s taking you how he wants you today, hard and fast, spitefully splaying you out against the wall of the ship so that if a single person were to walk down this corridor, they’d have no doubt what they were seeing: one Karkat Vantas, being used as a fucktoy by Sollux Captor, and loving it.

"Nngh—you couldn’t—aah—drop me down enough to let me inside of you, Captor? Shameful psionic control, I’m telling you.”

He grins against your neck, his bulges thrashing extra-hard inside of you. “Oh, please, we both know I have all of the control here, and this is how I want you, pailslut.” He drops you down just to prove his point, but before your dripping bulge can find its way to his nook, his hand darts between you to restrain it. “Not today, KK. I’m gonna fill you with my load and leave you here unfinished unless you behave.”

You whine at him, and he just chuckles in response, working at your bulge. “See, that’s more like it, look at you holding back the complaints for me. I didn’t think you were capable of it.” He nips at your ear, and you tense, your eyes fluttering with pleasure.

Your mouth opens to protest, but you snap it shut, because damn it, you’re gonna die if he just leaves you here. (And he would, too. You know this asshole inside and out.) ”Then how about praise?” you mumble.

"Oh?"

"What if I told you how many buckets I filled while waiting for your dumb ass to get back from training? I jerked it to you every evening when I woke up, because I kept thinking of you and popping wrigglies all day if I didn’t."

He buries himself as deep in you as he can get, half-biting your jaw and breathing raggedly as he rolls his hips. He brushes up against your shame globes and you cry out.

“Fuck, Sollux. Right there, keep doing that, harder—fill me up, just like that, yeah—”

His hips stutter and his bulges go rigid inside of you. “Hhhah—Karkat, shit—” You’re pumped full of his heat in waves, your genebladder bulging with material, and he loses control of his powers for a brief second, dropping you down to your feet. The drop causes his bulgetips to brush against your globes again and you’re gone, sobbing and begging for fuck-knows-what as a surge of pleasure washes over your body.

Sollux leans against you, pinning you to the wall, as the two of you recover your breath. He presses lazy kisses under your ear and along your jaw while the last of the red and yellow material drips sluggishly down your thighs and onto your horridly ruined pants, and the realization brings you back enough to wonder what the everloving fuck you just did. You check the time on your husktop, and swear.

"Sollux, maintenance on this corridor was scheduled for five minutes ago, you utter shitstain. We have to get out of here now.”

The bastard sniggers at you. “Eheheh. Nah, the maintenance guy got an eyeful and scurried away, I think we’re good for now.”

Yeah, today was most definitely a hatefuck.


	3. Karkat/Psiioniic, lovey comfort sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of Psii's PTSD from the helm. For tumblr user tech2upport.

Psii reminds you of Sollux, of course; he’s all lanky awkwardness and sharp bones and cutting remarks, just like his descendant. You love how he smirks just the same, that he calls you KK just the same, that he puns left and right and has a soft spot for his bees. There’s less of him than there is of Sollux, though; he withered away in the helm until he was an emaciated husk, and sweeps of recovery can only do so much. It’s downright fucking  _pitiful_.

You’re too late to be  _this_  to Sollux, but you can at least give your bloodpusher (and your body, vigorously and repeatedly) to the elder Captor—and you do, because the universe can suck your bulge if it thinks it’s depriving you of this bliss. You will fight paradox space kicking and screaming before letting go of this asshole that makes your gastric sac flip with pity every time you so much as glance at him.

He pulls you into his arms and you go willingly, flinging clothing into distant corners of the block and catching your lip on his sharp teeth. When you pail him like this, you take it slow and steady, letting him have the control he needs to not have an Imperial fucking flipout as he feeds his bulges into you and bounces you on his lap with psionics. He’s seen some shit that would make subjugglators pale under their inches of grease paint, but he lives and thrives regardless. (Can’t kill a Captor. It’s a universal constant.) It’s a miracle that would awe those greasy shitstains that he’s even interested in pailing at  _all_ , that he’s alive, pulsing inside of you and moaning under you despite the scars and ports that mark his back, despite the memories that cloud his thinkpan, and that spark of life is never as obvious as when he’s lisping obscenities in your ear and laughing at you for blushing about  _words_  when he can do things like  _this_ —

He gasps, driving his bulges up into you, and they spasm and flood you with material. You shake apart in his arms, chasing his tongue with yours and trying to impart with kisses and heavy breathing what mere words never could: that as easy as it would be to assume you’re using him as a replacement for Sollux, you pity this perfect, damaged Captor for his own charms (and lack thereof), and you are  _never_  letting go.


	4. Equius<3Sollux, oviposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oviposition and snark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tumblr user rydiahighwind.

Frankly, you weren’t that interested when Maryam explained the mechanics of reproduction on the new planet.

Frankly, you were an  _idiot_ , because now that Sollux has you stuffed with both bulges and is rocking into you with ragged gasps, you really wish you had an idea what you were getting into with this whole “egglaying” thing. It was logical that you be the host, due to your superior size and his mutations, but logic doesn’t dampen the pain of Sollux’s claws clutching at your shoulder so hard you bleed, and it certainly doesn’t dampen the incredibly bizarre sensation of a warm, solid egg being pushed through one bulge inside of you, while the other twines around its twin to help push it along.

"Could you perhaps remove your claws from my flesh, Sollux? It’s quite rude, given that we are not pitch for each other."

Sollux growls. “No, I could fucking not. I am, in fact, in the middle of a delicate fucking medical procedure that requires my utmost attention to pull off without rupturing my pencil-thin half-bulges, and if it makes you feel any better about it you can just go ahead and pretend I’m a salty seadweller superior laying my clutch in you and using you however I want to, because I just  _had_  to acquire this particular mutation, yeah? I am _soooo_  sorry I’m not as cold as Gl’bgolyb’s tits; you’ll just have to use your imagination.”

You open your mouth to respond to his crass and uncalled-for statement, but your genebladder’s entrance contracts as the egg pushes painfully through, and you can’t even begin to imagine how painful it must be to have such a large object go through your  _bulge_  like that. Finally, the egg nestles deep inside of you, and Sollux stops grunting in pain long enough to get a better grip on you and shift the tip of the other bulge into the appropriate spot. He takes a deep breath and pushes, crying out in agony, and your pumpbiscuit squeezes with sympathy for him even as he pushes out a second egg, depositing it beside its twin.

Sollux pulls out of you awkwardly and collapses, and you nestle him close, patting as gently as possible at his damp hair. Even two eggs is enough to make you feel swollen and unnatural, and Kanaya said it wasn’t uncommon to have clutches of up to eight, so you’re not quite sure this is over.

"Was that all of them?"

Even in pain, Sollux retains his temper. “No, I’ve got a whole four-wheeled conveyance device just brimming with them, let me go get the shovel and we’ll make a fucking night of running them through my bulges until they shrivel up and jump off in despair.”

You laugh, deep and raspy. “No, I think two is plenty. Save your bulges, Captor. We’ll need them to fertilize these later anyways.”

His only response is a weak grunt, but the corners of his lips twitch up enough to show his teeth, and that passes as a grin where your software-inclined tempest of a troll is concerned. Satisfied, you pull him in for a kiss, and contemplate the fun you’ll have with him later.


	5. Sollux/Mituna/Psiioniic, daisy chaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy chaining, face-fucking, and a blowjob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tumblr user valenwoodspecial.

You are an utter asshole for every single time you face-fucked Karkat.

You know this because right now, your Ancestor has your head firmly between his hands and is forcing his bulges down your throat until you gag, and  _wow_ , it’s fucking  _amazing_ how much drool can manage to escape even with your mouth plugged up like this. You’re on your side, and there’s a sticky mix of material and saliva running down your jaw and onto your neck. It only gets stickier every time Mituna surprises you by switching between your nook and your bulges, but you’re pretty sure you’re getting his rhythm figured out. The taps of his tongue against your pleasure nub are the beenary lyrics to  _[Feel Like Makin’ Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjJU_wQPpKk)_ , and you’d roll your eyes at it (and probably snort if it wouldn’t make you choke hardcore right now), but it’s surprisingly effective, and by the next-to-last verse he’s gotten you right where you need to—heh— _bee_.

Psii pulls you in hard and comes down your throat while you’re still convulsing with orgasm, and you’d bitch at him—you will, later—but Mituna’s still back there now that Psii’s off of him, rubbing at himself vigorously, and you’re already a certified hazardous materials dumpster, so you merely flip Psii off and dive in between Mituna’s legs, flicking your tongue to the beat of [ _Android Porn_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jr3XJr4FCYk) until he shudders and drenches you in material.

(It’s totally worth it, because the high-five and grins you exchange afterwards confuse Psii like nothing else. Serves the bastard right.)


	6. Eridan<3<Sollux, temperature play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tumblr user deniedmysign.

After so long without Feferi, you’d forgotten what it was like to pail a seadweller. You’d forgotten the chill and the dampness and the scent of salt, and god  _damn,_ you wish you’d remembered, because the surprise of Eridan’s frigid bulge sliding into you the first time you pailed coaxed an extremely undignified screech out of you, and he won’t let you forget it.

_"Want some ice cream, Sol? Oh, I forgot, best to keep the sensitive landdwellers out of the cold. Wouldn’t want to make you shriek like a grub or anything."_

_"Wanna go meet Fef today? Actually, never mind, it’s pretty cold out by the shore, and I wouldn’t wanna inconvenience a certain lispy kismesis ‘o mine, you know."_

Damn, but you hate this asshole.

A few days of the snarking was all it took before you snarled and grabbed him by his stupid scarf and spat in his face and told him that you can take anything he’s fucking got, and that’s how you wound up here, strapped down to a psi-nullifying table, being poked and prodded at with ever-colder toys in an effort to reassure this asshole that you. fucking.  _win_. this kismesissitude.

He starts with toys he’s had in his “refrigerator” (fucking highblood snobbery), filling your waste chute with a chilled dildo that makes you grit your teeth, but you don’t cry out.

Next, he moves on to his fingers and his bulge, fucking you until you both come. You’re prepared for the cold this time, and manage to bite back any traitorous screeches that might have wanted out.

Then he moves on to a toy he’s kept in his “freezer” (ugh), replacing the toy in your ass, which has warmed up to—well,  _ass-temperature_ —over the course of play. It thickens the lube significantly, and makes you clench up uncomfortably around it, but damn it, you’re _going_  to win. You take it all, wincing and reminding yourself that it too will warm up, you just have to hold out, because you, Sollux Captor, can fucking do this.

When he pushes the ice eggs into your nook, you cuss him out with creativity that would impress even Karkat.

(The asshole makes you hold them until they melt.)


	7. Karkat/Psiioniic, stress-relief spanking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of murder. Cathartic crying. Spanking. For Anonymous.

It’s a draining job, being Feferi’s bodyguard, because you don’t  _like_  killing people, but sometimes these assholes just don’t know when to quit. And when you’re forced to do it, you fall into a spiral of self-loathing, wondering why the hell anyone would deign to be with you when you’ve got blood on your hands.

When there’s an incident, as there was today, Psii takes note of the weary way you enter your shared room and glances towards the paddle, hanging forlorny in the corner. You jerk your head in assent. It’s only fair. You deserve it.

He stalks toward the corner, and you spare a moment to admire the weight he’s starting to put on, the fact that he actually looks like more than half a troll now. You shed your clothes, waiting until he sits down and nods you closer, the paddle placed beside him on the concupiscent platform. And then you bend in his lap, breathing deeply to steady yourself, and present your ass to him.

He starts slowly, rubbing more than spanking. His hands knead circles around your plump asscheeks, warming them up and triggering releases of shaky breath, anxiety and self-loathing released in puffs of air. His hands draw back and you brace yourself for the sting that comes an instant later, soothed by another gentle rub.

"You did your job," he says, calmly. He smacks you on the other cheek, and you shudder beneath him, your bulge twisting out of its sheath as a thrill of excitement and relief runs through your body. Two more spanks, two more soft soothings, and you’re twisting between his thighs, glad that his suit is stain-resistant.

"She can’t facilitate change if she’s dead, you know."

He shifts and places the smooth, cool wood of the paddle against your ass—a warning—before pulling it back and delivering a solid  _thump_  that ripples through your body. A sob wracks through you as he mirrors the action on the other side, and even though your eyes are squeezed tight with tension, tears slip from the edges and down your face.

"She does good work, Karkat. And so do you. It’s not an easy job, but it is a necessary one."

Two more solid thumps, and you’re straight-up crying, tears rolling down your cheeks and onto the floor. It’s silent, but you know he knows, and he drops the paddle to pull your back against his chest, kissing at your neck and reaching for your dripping bulge. You can feel his twinned ones writhing in his pants, pressed against your ass, and you’d offer to help him out but you know he doesn’t like to, not like this.

You take what he offers, squirming down onto his fingers as his thumb flicks across your pleasure nub, and your tears have dried by the time you collapse in a cathartic post-coital haze. He floats you over to the recuperacoon and climbs in beside you with a crooked half-smile, nestling you against him and leading you into a dreamless sleep.


	8. Sollux/Daves, gangbang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Dave was more than enough, but Sollux foolishly agrees to try four of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous.

Dave is an asshole.

Correction:  _Daves_  are assholes.

You agreed to let him try bringing in alts from his doomed timelines because hey, you’re the  _mage of doom_ , right? You’re totally able to take whatever doomed Daves he throws at you here. One Dave pisses you off so much that you can’t imagine being any more pissed off, so adding other Daves shouldn’t have been a federal fucking issue.

But it was. Is.  _Whatever_.

So here you are, riding a Dave that’s fucking your nook, getting fucked in the wastechute by Dave #2, and being facefucked by two Daves that are alternately arguing about the best name for penises and attempting to choke you to death with them. It’s awkward; you have a hard time opening your mouth wide enough for both, so they keep slipping out at odd angles and poking you in the face.

"Pork sword’s a classic, man. Can’t diss the pork sword."

"Why would you even consider going with pork sword when beef torpedo is a viable option?"

"Q: When’s the last time you used your dick as a torpedo? A: An hour past never, because it’s still attached."

"No worries about the specifics, man. Just haven’t fired it yet. Watch and be amazed."

"… I am scrutinizing the situation intensely, and I am still ceasing to be amazed."

The “beef torpedo” goes off right in your eye, and though Dave gives Dave a high-five, the only thing  _you’re_  amazed at is your own stupidity for agreeing to this in the first place.

 


	9. Signless/Psiioniic, cum inflation and omorashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psii has two genebladders to empty into Signless, and. Well. That tends to push fluid out of Signless's _other_ type of bladder...
> 
> Omorashi, dirty talk, begging, come inflation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tumblr user curvyrainbowboi.

"Oh  _fuck_ , Psii!”

He smirks at you, shifting your leg higher on his shoulder so he can pound into you harder. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I’m doing. Did you have a problem with that, or…? Don’t want your followers to hear?”

"No, fuck, just. Fill me up with all that slurry already, I can’t—it feels so good to carry you around inside of me, all warm and liquid and— _nngh_ —” Your nook clenches down hard around him as you shudder in anticipation, and it triggers his orgasm, that coveted warmth spilling down inside of you. It takes several minutes for him to fully empty himself, two genebladders full of material, twice what a normal troll could give, and it’s the  _hottest fucking thing_  you could ever ask for a partner to do for you. Your genebladder swells, your bulge throbs with anticipation—

And you really need to piss.

"You like that, SL? Getting close, now that you’re all filled up with my slurry like a two-beetle pailpal?" His bulges are less frantic inside of you now, but he keeps fucking you nonetheless, and the dirty talk makes you flush from horn to nub beneath him. Every twist of his bulge jostles the excess fluids inside of you and makes you need to pee, but you’re so close, especially if he keeps talking like  _that_. Still, you need to say something or this is going to be humiliating in a much more visceral manner than dirty talking is.

"Psii, I—I— _shit!_ ”

He grins and grinds into you hard, pressing against your pleasure nub with his fingers, and you can’t take it any more. You come hard, spraying mutant-red material onto your chest and shuddering with release, but your body lets go of its other excess fluids at the same time. Piss sprays over his fingers and pools below your ass, and his face registers surprise for a split second before he gives an infuriating giggle and arches an eyebrow.

"You know, SL, if you had a piss kink I would have been happy to indulge, but that’s the sort of thing you really ought to warn a guy about beforehand."

You pull your cloak from the pile nearby and drape it over your face, hiding until you decide whether to laugh or cry.


	10. Psiioniic/Roxy, emetophilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Psiioniic, fittingly enough, has an allergy to fish. Roxy helps him through it, and he finds it distressingly cathartic to purge himself of sea-dwelling poisons both physical and mental. PTSD implications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tatterdemalionamberite.

“ _Hrrkkh.”_

Vomit splashes into the load gaper beneath you, and you turn your head, wiping at stray dribbles with gaper paper. You force yourself to stay calm, to breathe slowly despite the way everything on your body feels swollen and itchy and hot, and Roxy’s hand alights on your shoulder, rubbing gently.

"Jesus fuck, I’m glad we brought that epi-pen. I’m gonna sic a virus on Egbert’s dad for forgetting I said  _no shellfish_. Clear as a whistle, yet here we are.”

You manage a wry grin while rubbing at your itchy eyes. “I’m not even human and I know that’s not the expression, RX.”

She waves a hand, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, ya kind of had access to the entirety of all known languages when you were in the helm, I know. Give a gal a break, English wasn’t exactly standardized when there were four of us left.”

You open your mouth to reply, and nearly vomit on her. Your body spasms from the core outward as you turn, and you manage to land it all in the load gaper again. It’s followed by another hard convulsion, and you suddenly feel hotter as you realize that the most recent expulsion also squeezed your bulge from its sheath. You’ll stay turned away from her, then. It’s humiliating enough that she’s in here keeping an eye on you, without her realizing just how close these spasms are to orgasm. Relief, plain and simple, and your body’s fucked-up enough that signals sometimes—well, they get mixed, after the helm, and the weirdest fucking things can turn you on.

So of course she chooses that moment to migrate her hand down to your stomach and rub it reassuringly. And naturally, your bulge takes that as an invitation to play, and reaches above the elastic waistband of your suit to wrap around said hand.

Fuck your life, and fuck your kinks that you didn’t even know you had. You’ve got to be Pikachu-yellow right now, and the way she sidles up behind you on her knees and rests her head between your shoulderblades (you’re nearly twice her size) makes you whine softly before you even process that your body wants to make said sound.

"Hey, looks like wriggly assholes one and two wanna play. Toilets turn you on that much?"

You laugh softly, almost mockingly, at yourself more than her. “Not load gapers, no.”

She pauses, threading her fingers around  your bulges thoughtfully. “Puking, then.”

You sigh. “Apparently. I’m sorry, I know I’m a fucked-up mess. Just go, I’ll be fine.”

"Nah. I think I wanna help. What’s a girlfriend for, right?"

You whimper, but you betray yourself with a nod of assent. Her deft programmer’s fingers pull your pants down swiftly, abandoning your writhing bulges, and she rubs the entrance of your nook from behind.

"So, what is it that does it for you about this, then? Need to know what to focus on, how to make you feel good."

"I—" You’re not sure, really. It  _is_  like orgasm a little, yeah, but you think there’s more to it, you just have to dig. Taking a deep breath, you thrust your fingers into your mouth and gag, forcing more vomit up and out. You pay attention this time, trying to savor the sensation instead of just getting it over with, and what you find is—heh. Well, doesn’t that just make way too much sense?

You wipe your mouth off as you recover breath (though it’s hard to breathe with Roxy teasing her fingers into you slowly), and proclaim exactly how fucked you are in the thinkpan.

"It’s—it’s her, the fishbitch. Makes sense I’d be allergic to fish, fucking cosmic joke. Ha ha, universe. Very funny."

"Go on." Roxy slides three fingers deep inside of you at once, and you nearly fall over, gasping against the load gaper. Your gastric sac churns with a mixture of bad memories and bad food.

"Well it’s—it’s getting her out, isn’t it? Gets—gets the fish and the memories out, all tangled up, feels good, I just—fuck—god, I’m so fucked up, why am I getting off to— _hhhrrkkhh—_ ”

You expel the remaining contents of your stomach and taste bile, and Roxy pistons her fingers into you hard and fast through the whole thing. You dry heave, nauseated by thoughts of your time with the Condesce, and find yourself sobbing into the load gaper as you vomit a final time and spray genetic material onto the pristine floor.

You slump to a slightly cleaner section of floor with a humiliated groan, and glance at Roxy. She’s licking the fingers of her non-yellow-covered hand clean, which is a habit she has after she orgasms, so at least she got something out of this too. Still, you fucked up. You fucked up bad here, you’re fucking gross. She’ll never want to stay with you, not after this. For fuck’s sake, you’re collapsed in the Egberts’ bathroom, covered in material and stray vomit and leaking tears fucking  _everywhere_.  _Nobody_  would want to stay with someone they’d seen like this, god.

You open your mouth to offer a hopeless apology, but Roxy scoots over to you and puts a finger to your mouth with a  _shoosh_.

"Hey. It’s okay, babe. If you don’t want to do that again, if it was too much, we don’t have to. I thought it was totes hot, bee-tee-dubs, but you’re in control here. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m cool with it. You know that."

You pull her into your lap, this tiny human girl that fits against your chest like she was made for you, and marvel that such a cosmically-insignificant creature can mend wounds inflicted by a conqueror of galaxies.


	11. Karkat/Sollux, comfort sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ladysekh.

The front door of the hive slams so harshly that a gamegrub falls off its shelf nearby, and you twirl in your swivel chair to regard Karkat passively.

"Rough night? Or did the door personally insult your lusus?"

Karkat shoves his bag angrily into the corner and yanks a shoe off so vehemently that he nearly falls over in the process. “Ahaha, with the night I’ve had, I would NOT be surprised if inanimate objects started joining in on the shitparade. Technically, they already have.” He ticks off offenses on his fingers as he talks.

"I got to work and Feferi’s advisor wanted a private word. Somehow, all that fucking paperwork I filed last Cullday went missing. So I had to deal with that asshole over in filing  _again_ , and he didn’t have a goddamn clue what paperwork I was talking about, so I had to track down all the people that worked filing since then and terrorize them into giving me details. Only nobody knew anything, so I had to fill the damn paperwork out again, which took hours. And then the company scuttlebuggy broke down on the way to the filing center, and I was stuck there for two hours arguing with towing assholes on the communicrab.”

He flops onto the plush reclining platform, and you move over beside him and nod in what you hope is a reassuring manner. That’s what they do to show interest in all the movies he loves so much, anyways.

"I hadn’t eaten anything all day, but the place they towed me to only had ice scream. Not exactly filling, but hey, I thought to myself, at least I can have a delicious treat while I wait for this shit to blow over. I got two bites.  _Two_. And then this asshole of a barely-pupated wriggler ran by with his lusus in tow and knocked it out of my hands, and I broke down fucking crying because I only had a half-caegar left and couldn’t even afford another one until I made a withdrawal, which I couldn’t do because I was stuck at the fucking scuttlebuggy repair place.”

Yeah, you’re getting exhausted just thinking about all this. He needs a distraction, not to live it all again. You slip to the floor and press his legs apart, working at his fly.

"—had to go  _back over to filing_ , and—-the fuck are you doing?”

"Care and feeding of my stressed-out asshole of a matesprit. Just sit back and relax, nookwhiffer."

"But I— _ohhh._ " You trace your tongue over his sheath, and he bucks up jerkily, his fingers burying into your hair. He scoots forward to the edge of the platform, and you snigger a bit under your breath. Well,  _that_  didn’t take much convincing.

You keep tonguing at his sheath as his bulge slips lazily out, and run your hands under his shirt to rub gently at his grubscars. You can feel him  _melt_  under your touch, which is good; that’s the point, really. His bulge slips into the heat of your mouth quite willingly, and you shift a hand from the grubscars to rub gently at the opening of his nook. The folds part easily, already glistening with arousal.

You pop off of his bulge. “Geez, KK. You’re wet enough that I’d swear you were thinking of me before you even got home.”

He shoves you back down and blushes. “Yeah, well. A guy’s gotta use  _some_  kind of coping method to deal with a night like that. Suck harder. You were actually starting to get me somewhere, jackass.”

You suck harder, because yeah, sure, you can do that. But you also piston two fingers into him, and it makes him grip your hair so tightly that your eyes smart. He rocks forward into your throat as you loosen up and take him deeper, letting him fuck down as far as he wants to, just doing your best to keep your teeth out of the way and provide suction along his length.

The rocking presses your fingers into the knuckle, and you regretfully add a third, destroying duality, so you can get them in a bit deeper. They brush against his slick, textured walls as you crook them to find his pleasure centers, and you send a jolt of light psionics up an inch or so to caress his shame globes. They constrict and pulse several times, and you know he’s close, from the way he’s panting and forcing you down on his bulge like he’s fucking an actual nook.

It only takes a few more shocks to his globes before he comes, making you choke as you struggle to swallow his thick material, but you are a fucking  _champ_ at this, and neither of you will have the energy to clean this up, so you take it all anyways, letting it settle in your stomach and make you feel nauseous and overfull. It’ll only be for a while, you can handle it for him.

Finally you pull away, licking your lips, and looking with satisfaction at the heap of Karkat you’ve left on the platform. His hair is disheveled and he’s panting hardcore, eyes glassy, but he’s not thinking about his night, and that’s all that matters. You snap your fingers and float a shitty romcom over.

"Movie? I’ll even make us some food to go with it."

He nods, and you toss the movie at him, standing up to go get food. His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, pulling you close.

"Hey, Sollux? Thanks."

His kiss leaves you so dizzy that you walk into the wrong room for food, and he snickers at you when you have to turn around and walk through the respiteblock again.


	12. Psiioniic/Rose, failsex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psii and Rose develop a kismesissitude while he's still in the helm. They attempt to consummate the union and have a pretty fail time of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For teratocybernetics.

Rose waltzes in to the helmsblock with an armful of knitted monstrosities, and you scowl at her the instant she’s close enough to see it.

"And what the fuck might those be?"

She hoists her skirt up and splashes toward you, standing on tiptoes and planting an infuriatingly calm kiss on your chin before spreading the knitted items for display.

"Tentacle cozies, of course. I thought you might be cold in here. There does seem to be quite a bit of chilly water present, if you hadn’t noticed."

"I’ve had my nerves spliced into a fucking ship and been in here for thousands of sweeps against my will, died and been resurrected, and you think I’m worried about catching a chill." This  _human_. She’s downright  _condescending_ , which might be a hilarious pun if the associations weren’t so fucking obnoxious.

She hums, lifting a loose biowire and sliding a knit sleeve over it. You can feel it vaguely; an itchy irritant that is more obnoxious than helpful. “Mmm. No, but that’s why you need me to worry about it for you. Especially if tonight is to go as planned. We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold amidst our first conjugal visit.” Two more sleeves roll on to tentacles, and you growl in frustration. “I imagine it’s quite the ordeal to get a helmsman over being sick.”

…yeah, you definitely don’t want to go through that again, but still, tentacle cozies are not the answer; of this you are relatively sure. You growl and use the biowires to pull her close. She’s managed to slip a cozy over every single loose wire while talking, and you can barely feel a thing through them.

"You know, this isn’t going to be what you want. You’re too small, there’s no way I can get into your nook from the position I’m in."

She pushes free of the wires and starts stripping out of her clothes, unconcerned with the casual nudity. “I dare say we’ll work it out somehow, Mr. Captor. We humans are creative individuals when pressed.” Her hand hovers over the lower zipper of your flightsuit, poised just above the terminus of your lower biowires. “And you are quite certain you’re still okay with making an attempt?”

“ _Yes_ ,” you growl. You’re honestly just ready to get on with it.

Her skirt drops with a muffled  _fwmp_  beneath you as she pulls out your already-writhing bulges, and she stretches up to bite at your jawline. You hiss, uncomfortably aroused. “This  _is_  how it works in this quadrant, yes? I express my distaste for your perceived incompetence via harsh words and actions, and vice-versa.”

"Something like that, yes," you spit out, and you wrap her in the biowires and pull her up to you, reaching your bulges out for hers, and—

"The fuck is your bulge, Lalonde?"

She  _laughs at you_. “Oh, I forgot about that. Half of humans don’t have bulges, half of us don’t have nooks. I myself am of the bulgeless variety.”

That’s. Okay, that’s really fucking weird, but they’re aliens, so whatever.

"I can still fuck your nook, right? That’s how you do it?"

"Indeed."

You wrap her up tight in the wires and pull her closer, but—fuck—from this position you can’t quite wriggle in there. Then again, that means you were right. Kismesissitude point acquired. You’ll rub it in her face when you’re not busy being disappointed by it.

"Shit. This isn’t going to work."

"And here I was, thinking you looked nice and competent in this department. Disappointing."

"Shut. The fuck. Up. We’ll figure something out. Or at least we’d  _better_ , because I have never hated an individual as intensely as I loathe you right now, Lalonde.” You slip a biowire between her legs. Maybe you can fuck her with one of those, and manage to get enough friction on your bulges from her thighs to come anyways. You nudge the tip of the wire against her wet nook and  _push_.

“ _Ow._ " She hisses in pain, and you freeze.

"Fuck, I’m sorry, I just. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing trying to fuck an alien, you’d think all the porn on the goddamn neurowires would have taught me that’s a bad idea by now." You lower her slowly to the ground, wincing at your inadequacies. You want to hurt her, yeah, but only in ways she finds pleasurable.

"It’s okay." There’s a sheepish expression on her face. "I think you would have been fine, if it wasn’t for—well." She pulls the knit cozy from the biowire that was between her legs with a grimace, dropping it into the pool at the base of the helmsblock. "That was, as Dave would say, my bad. Let’s try that again, shall we?"

You try again, and you succeed.

Dear eldritch gods, do you succeed.


	13. Eridan/Psiioniic, sensory issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan helps the Psiioniic adjust to touch after his time in the helm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For spockandawe.

"An’ you’re fuckin’ sure you can handle this, 'Psii?'” Eridan sneers at you, lisping in a perfect parody that makes you shrivel up inside like a pre-schoolfeeder.

You pause, because no, you’re really not, but you want to try this, you want to get better, and Eridan’s constant jabs at how you can barely even handle certain textures of clothing make you boil over with fury. At him, at yourself, at the shitty-ass universe that held you in the helm for sweeps and deprived you of the ability to feel a damn thing for so long. And now that sensation is coming back, and it’s  _too fucking much_ , and you need to learn to deal with it.

What better motivation for being able to take it than knowing your kismesis is watching, and waiting for you to fail?

"Of course. After lifetimes in the helm, there’s no worse you can do to me." You wince, because you still lisp, but hey, one problem at a time. And that particular one might just be unavoidable.

"Fine. Let’s not waste time, then." He unzips your flightsuit in one go, pushing the halves to one side, and you struggle out of the top while he tugs the pants off. You’re left naked and shivering, the simple draft from the vent nearby feeling as strong as a light wind did, back before the helm.

He touches you firmly at first; you’ve tried this before, with limited success, and realized that it’s easier to withstand a firm touch. His hands come down on your arms, and he massages carefully down to your wrists. You can feel the blood pumping hard everywhere he’s touched, thumping against the scars from inside of you, and when he trails lightly back up your arms, you shudder and curl in on yourself slightly. It’s instinct, a protective gesture, but you straighten yourself back out within seconds, determined to stay strong.

His lips mouth at your jaw, and your bulges twist out of your sheath at the thrill the simple action sends down your spine.

"Can’t wait ‘til I can bite you like I mean it, Psii. Because I do, an’ I wanna hear you screamin’ out my name." Your bulges knot together, and you buck up, keening helplessly, at the stimulation it gives you. They’re not quite as oversensitive as the rest of you, because you were—well,  _milked_ , for lack of a better word—every half-sweep while in the helm. Absolutely  _nothing_  excuses a troll from pail donation, not even being melded with a ship. Thank fuck it was done by a mindless machine at least, instead of some poor troll forced to pail with you. A shudder of a completely different type runs through you at the thought.

Eridan’s claws skitter across your chest, distracting you from your dark thoughts, and they hover around your lower abdomen, stroking semi-firmly over the slight bit of pudge you’ve managed to build up since you were freed. His wrist is just out of reach of your bulges, and—fuck,  _fuck_ , he brushes against them and you heave a single shaky breath and spray what feels like an endless amount of backed-up material onto him while stars dance in your eyes.

It’s your first natural orgasm in thousands of sweeps, and you are going to fucking  _die_  of embarrassment.

"Despicable," he says, sneering at you as he wipes his hand on his cape. "You can do better than that, I fuckin’ know it."

"I can," you plead. "Give me another chance, I can do better."

"Tomorrow," he says, and  _oh, how you loathe him._


End file.
